


every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man

by remembermyfic



Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [7]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembermyfic/pseuds/remembermyfic
Summary: Sure enough, Roman's back to his blinding grin when she stands, determined the pants will stay. He catches her as she moves to step away. “Hey,” and his voice is surprisingly soft. Steph has to lean in to hear properly and very carefully does not think about how intimate it all feels. “Congratulations on the line and the show. It’s an honour to wear it.”He kisses her cheek, close enough to her mouth that she startles. He’s already striding away, headed for the runway and throwing on his model persona.
Relationships: Seth Jones/Roman Josi
Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564486
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man

**Author's Note:**

> If you know the people, do the clicking out. 
> 
> To the girls, you know who you are. <3 
> 
> Title from ZZ Top's song.

Steph’s hands are shaking. She’s nervous as hell. It’s her first New York Fashion Week runway show, she figures she’s entitled to being a little overwhelmed. Excited, for sure, but entirely overwhelmed.

Okay, go.”

She’s already turned to the next model and comes face to face with one that is, by far, her favourite.

Roman Josi’s smile is blinding, but it’s also everything Steph didn’t know she needed. “Ready?”

She blows out a breath. “Terrified.” She leans down to double check his pants. They look like they’re barely holding on.

“Is Amy out there?”

Steph smiles. Roman’s been bothering her for ages to meet her firecracker of a mother, based only on the stories she’s told him.

“She made it,” Steph answers, deftly snipping a thread and snatching up a pre-threaded needle. “Do not flex.”

“Can I take you out after? To meet her?”

Only years of working with smoking hot models keeps her from outwardly jolting. Inwardly, her stomach flips because Roman is hot, but he’s also sweet and wonderful and has remembered every little thing Steph has told him about her life. That includes the early days, when they’d come across each other once every four to six months because she was an intern and at the bottom of the food chain.

“I can ask,” she defers, because she’s not sure she can afford saying anything else. He needs to get on the runway and she needs to check the grand finale dress, now that her repair crew has a rhythm going.

Sure enough, he’s back to his blinding grin when she stands, determined the pants will stay. He catches her as she moves to step away. “Hey,” and his voice is surprisingly soft. Steph has to lean in to hear properly and very carefully does not think about how intimate it all feels. “Congratulations on the line and the show. It’s an honour to wear it.”

He kisses her cheek, close enough to her mouth that she startles. He’s already striding away, headed for the runway and throwing on his model persona.

“Steph.” There’s amusement in the voice of Matty Duchene, a last minute add for the big NYFW push. “Finale. Dress goes on in 2.”

She swears and heads off, shoving Roman Josi safely back into his locked box.

Again.

“You did it!”

Steph yelps when Roman catches her and swings her around. They’ve just come off the runway, Roman insistent he be the one to walk with her. Ryan Ellis, still stunning in the evening gown Steph had seen in her dreams for five years, had merely rolled her eyes in amusement.

Steph laughs as Roman sets her down, because it’s all she can do in the face of him and the adrenaline of the show. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

He laughs with her, less hysterical, maybe a little bit more affectionate and amused.

“It was good, right? It went well?”

Roman laughs again, pulls her in like he can’t help himself, even busses his lips against her forehead. It’s absolutely not helping the way hear heart is thumping. It’s so, so much.

“Steph, baby!”

It’s so easy to fall into her mother’s arms. Steph doesn’t cry - she comes close - but Amy has absolutely no qualms about it. Dramatic, sure, but it’s entirely out of love and Steph’s honestly glad her mother can express the overwhelming emotions Steph is definitely feeling.

“It was wonderful, baby,” Amy gushes. “Your first runway show and it was such a success!”

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow,” Steph demures. Tomorrow will be the articles and the true temperature of how her collection was received by critics.

“It was wonderful,” Roman repeats, and Steph’s stomach warms, even as he turns that blinding, disarming grin on her mother. Steph isn’t sure if she wants to sigh or laugh.

“Mom, this is Roman Josi. Roman, my mother, Amy.”

Roman actually takes her mother’s hand and lifts it to his mouth. “Steph talks about you constantly.”

“Oh my,” is all Amy says. Steph can empathize.

“Can I take you to dinner? To celebrate.”

“Roman-“

Amy steps in front of her. “That would be lovely.”

Which is how Steph ends up beside Roman and across from her mother in a quiet Thai restaurant. She doesn’t eat much, and it has nothing to do with being hungry. It’s distracting to sit next to him, to feel him pressed against her side. It’s all she can focus on, because it’s not exactly normal to spend time with Roman outside of professional contexts. Professionalism allows her required space to not think about how he feels against her skin. Here, she watches him charm her mother, lets him invade her personal space and feels ever line she’s built, blur.

They cab back to the hotel and drop Amy off at her room. Then it’s just Steph and Roman back in the elevator and off to Steph’s floor.

“You know,” Roman says as they step onto her floor. “I love working with you. The show was fun.”

She laughs. “It was stressful.” She feels herself flush. “Thanks for coming on board. Your name helped.”

“Your designs speak for themselves,” he argues, and steps closer. She lets him.

“Still. Thank you.”

He moves closer still, slowly, like he’s giving her the space to move away.

She doesn’t.

“Of course. It’s not a hardship.”

She knows he’s leaning in, but it feels surreal, like it should happen to someone else. She finds herself tipping her head up so it’s easier for him to meet her mouth. If she hadn’t been totally absorbed in the reality of actually kissing Roman, she’d be embarrassed by the way she surges into the kiss. She is grateful for the way he responds, by clamping his huge hands on her hips, going as far as to lean into her until she stumbles back into the wall. She’s grateful for that wall too, for bracing her and allowing her to take complete advantage of the fact that she’s actually, truly kissing Roman.

“Fuck.”

It takes her more than a few moments to realize the curse came from him. It’s one she absolutely relates to as she blinks her eyes open.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asks, tangling his hand in the hair at the base of her skull. “God, Steph.”

“How long?” she finds herself asking.

He swears again – she thinks because it’s not in English, but the tone makes her assume cursing – and kisses her again. It’s just as fierce, but absolutely too short. “Years.”

She makes a noise and yanks him back in.

“Inside,” he gasps when he pulls away. “Steph, please.”

“Yes.”

She wakes slowly the next morning, lulled in and out of sleep by gentle strokes up and down her back. She stretches idly and blinks her eyes open. Roman’s still there, scrolling through his phone. He smiles, so warm, and curls his fingers into her must-be-messy hair.

Good morning,” he murmurs and scratches deliciously at her scalp. “Sleep well?

She hums her agreement, stretches against him because there’s still a piece of her that cannot believe he’s here. Even last night feels like a dream.

“Fuck, Steph.”

It’s still a thrill to hear his voice that tough, to see his face awed like she can’t be real. It makes her giddy and it’s just as easy to tilt her head for his kiss as it was last night.

“Can I call you now?” he asks when they split, “When I want to?”

She laughs, a little hysterically. “You wanted to?”

“So many times,” he replies, chuckling against her mouth. “God, Steph, you don’t even know what you do to me.”

There will be a conversation; their jobs are too tumultuous for anything less than full clarity. But she’s here right now, skin-to-skin with the hottest man she’s ever met. The way he talks makes her think he could never want anything else, anyone else, and Steph is willing to put off the conversation in order to enjoy this moment. There will be time for that, she decides, as she rolls over, sprawls on top of him.

“So, show me.”

He growls and flips them, presses into her and Steph lets herself laugh, giddy and joyful, until he kisses her to shut her up.


End file.
